


A month is all it takes

by ChocoNut



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Mutual Pining, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:14:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26972728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: Tywin Lannister sends Brienne Tarth, a counsellor, to talk Jaime out of his toxic relationship with his cousin, Cersei. She's to stick to him like a leech, monitoring his dates, advising him until she's able to dissuade him from continuing to see her. And she won't take no for an answer.Jaime devises a plan that will, both, turn the situation to his advantage and get rid of the wench he can't stand the sight of.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 71
Kudos: 161





	1. The first meeting

**Author's Note:**

> A short snappy one - just 5 chapters.  
> Rating's T, but might be moved up if I'm in the mood for some eventual smut ;)
> 
> Note the change in rating - not for this chapter, but for towards the end.

“I wish my life was less complicated,” Jaime lamented to the empty room, pacing up and down restlessly.

Who would he pour his heart out to? His dad—the ever-present obstacle in his love life was ruled out, no doubt. His brother, of course, was close to him, but Tyrion again would jump into applying his wisdom and offering solutions instead of simply lending him an ear.

He could turn to Cersei, for sure—despite his ill-mood, he couldn’t help brighten up a bit at the thought of his lovely cousin. But then, how was he going to spill it out to her when she was the reason for the conflict with his dad? An argument blown badly out of proportions, it had gone to an extent that his father had threatened to disinherit him if he refused to cut ties with her.

 _So be it,_ he angrily muttered to himself. To hell with the Lannister empire. If that’s what it took for a future with the love of his life, he’d gladly forfeit all his claims—name, fame, wealth, everything. If doing that would bring him peace—

The doorbell chimed, burrowing a way through his brooding. 

“Who the fuck can it be this late in the evening?” he grumbled, half-wanting to ignore the visitor as he made his way to answer the interruption. 

“Mr. Jaime Lannister?”

Jaime blinked twice, then took in the sight before him. He’d never seen a woman this unlike a woman before. Tall—taller than him, she looked like a gawking tree, blue eyes studying him as if he were a relic in a museum. More freckles, there were, on her face, than free skin and her lips were as shapeless as shapeless could be.

Those eyes, though, were bluer than the bluest oceans and sparkling brighter than the most exquisite sapphires he’d seen. And they were regarding him with keen intrigue, processing the sight before her just like he was.

“How can I help you?” he grudgingly inquired, biting back his displeasure at being disturbed like this.

“I’m the one who’s going to be helping you,” she answered him in a clipped accent. She sounded crisp and firm, her stance, stubborn, like someone who wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Excuse me?”

“Brienne Tarth—” she held out a hand which was the largest he’d seen on a woman “—I’m here at the request of your father, Mr. Lannister.” 

Jaime simply stared. Was this some kind of a joke? Some new trick his father had up his crafty sleeve?

“I’m a counsellor,” she went on, expression as flat as a board, “appointed to—” 

“I don’t need—”

“Can I come in?”

Stunned though he was, that his father would thrust this unwanted company upon him, Jaime nevertheless, stepped aside to invite her in.

“I’m perfectly fine,” he lied in his most convincing tone, leading her to the couch. “Personal and professional life—everything’s going great. I need no therapy or sessions or whatever you wish to call it.”

The ends of her lips twitched as she watched him carefully. A smile? No, someone as grouchy as her was incapable of something like that. 

“Here’s what we’ll do,” he took charge, jumping at the advantage of her silence. “Have a drink here with me, Ms. Tarth—” he walked over to the fridge and pulled out two beers “—and then we part ways amicably.” Returning to her, he handed her the drink. “Tonight will be our first and last meeting. Rest assured, I’ll convince my father, tell him that whatever it is he thinks I need your assistance in—” 

“I’m here to steer you away from your abusive relationship—”

“Who the hell told you it’s abusive?” he lashed out, his bottled up anger for his father coming out at this stranger. “Whatever sad tale my dad fed you, it’s his jaundiced perception. I’m in no need of your services, thank you very much.”

Cool as a cucumber, the Tarth wench took a swig of her beer. “Why don’t I judge that for myself?” She leaned back, eyes still absorbing him as if he were an interesting book. “If it isn’t what your father makes it out to be, why do you worry? You’ll prevail in the end.”

Everything about this felt wrong, like the world was plotting against him and Cersei. “What do you mean—judge for yourself?”

“I’m to stay here with you, Mr. Lannister,” she announced, much to his dismay, “and make sure you—”

“—drop Cersei like a hot potato.” A dry smirk was all he had for her and his father's grand plan. “If you think you can dissuade me from following my heart, Ms. Tarth, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Her brows went up, making her look uglier than she was. “Why don’t I evaluate this relationship for myself? And then we can decide if—”

“What if I refuse?” Jaime rallied, livid at the way his life was being dictated by his father. 

“I can’t take no for an answer,” she coolly replied, unfazed by his rising temper. “Starting tonight, I am to monitor every meeting, every date you have with her—” 

“That’s—” _a blatant intrusion in my personal life,_ he was about to blurt out, the scathing dismissal almost making its way to his tongue, but he paused. Impulsive decisions had often cost him a lot and now—particularly in the emotionally vulnerable state he was, acting rashly wasn’t going to help. Antagonizing his father and walking out on him sounded good, but circumstances were not on his side now, especially when he was aggressively pursuing a loan to launch his own startup.

He hated to admit it, but as of now, he was dependent on his father.

No bank would ever entertain him if he got into Tywin Lannister’s bad books. He’d have to take this carefully, to bide his time. Patience was a virtue he’d chased and failed many times, but this time, he’d have to nail it.

“Fine,” he glumly agreed, knowing he’d have to adjust for the time being. Perking up at the plan beginning to take birth in his head, hoping he could swing this his way in the end, he went on, “But on one condition.”

She lowered her bottle. Blue eyes dug deep into his, as though trying to read his mind, and she waited for him to spell out his terms.

“One month is all you get, Ms. Tarth,” he announced, knowing this was his only respite, “and within that if you’re able to change my mind, I’ll go with my father’s decision and call it quits with my girlfriend, but if you fail—”

He paused to gauge her reaction. Did this unexpected challenge shake her? Leave her diffident?

“Go on,” she prompted, showing no outward signs of weakness.

“If you fail to convince me, if I manage to convince you, instead, that Cersei’s the way ahead for me, then we part company on exactly this date the next month.” He found himself smiling for the first time that evening. “If I succeed, you’ll persuade my father on my behalf to leave me alone. Is that acceptable?”

The Tarth woman—if one could call her a woman, was staring into nothing, drawn into a bout of contemplation. Jaime half-hoped she’d give up right now and leave, tell his father to find someone else to take her place, but the steely glint was back when she met his eyes.

“A deal it is, Mr. Lannister.” She held out her hand for the second time. “One month. And I assure you that’s all it takes.”

 _Yeah, for me to drive you away._

Biting back his resentment and forcing the brighter side of this and his love for Cersei to push away his gloom, he took the oversized calloused hand in his. “We’ll see.”

His mind was a whirlpool of thoughts as he led her to the guest room, the prospect of putting up with this wench more daunting than he’d care to admit. The more he looked at her, the more his irritation soared.

At least, his father could have sent someone pleasant to look at. It would've been lesser of a torture.


	2. Week 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so their interaction begins.

Brienne had expected resistance when she’d signed up for this, but a challenge—that, the younger Lannister had sprung upon her out of the blue. Outside, she managed to conduct herself as if this was a cake-walk, but inside, she was far from at-peace, constantly mulling over a plan—rather, trying to bring one to shape. 

Men hopelessly in love, she’d stumbled across more times than the years she’d lived, but this—this lovesick Lannister was an entity at a different level, altogether.

That it was becoming an effort for her to keep her eyes from wandering all over him was a problem she hadn’t envisaged. Particularly mornings, when he chose to stride around the house shirtless. And whenever he returned from the gym, hot and sweaty. And those late nights when she heard moans and groans coming from his room—imagining Cersei—doing more than just _picturing_ her. The first night she suffered this, she didn’t sleep until dawn, weird dreams—of herself and him causing her to wake up, startled, brows beaded with sweat despite the full blast of the AC. 

The next morning she bought herself a pair of earplugs, and while that hushed out Jaime’s solitary shenanigans, it did nothing to cast away her nagging dreams.

 _It’ll go away,_ she kept telling herself, swatting it off to the back of her head. This wasn’t the first time she’d been annoyingly drawn to a handsome client like this. Renly was now history, a phase that had gone by like a passing storm. It was just physical, her loneliness, her raging hormones. This man would be gone, too. She just had to bear with him for a month.

Their first couple of days breezed by, and they’d sort of settled into a routine. While Jaime was at work, she’d be immersed in her laptop, researching future prospects or simply reading up on relevant subject matter. At her defiant insistence to spend some quality time together, they’d dine together when he was done with his day, either at home or someplace nearby, and that’s when she got to probe him about Cersei. Parents could be biased, at times, so she’d decided to gather all data and form an opinion for herself. 

“You said you were sixteen when you first—” 

“Yeah, so?” he grunted, eyes fixed on his salad.

Ignoring his hostility, she went on, “Who was the one to initiate it?”

He shot her an annoyed look. “How does it matter?”

His resistance was getting to her, but if she had to get through to the end of this, she’d have to find a way around it. Getting worked up would definitely not help. “One month, Mr. Lannister,” she reminded him of their pact. “If I am to do as you say at the end of it, I expect your unhindered cooperation. If you continue being difficult about it, I’m just going to pass on my blunt feedback to your dad—”

“She made the first move,” he grudgingly divulged. “We were at an aunt’s place for the summer and—” the sourness on his face melted away, the memory bringing a smile to his face “—she told me to come to her room after midnight—” He looked lost and dreamy, as if he’d forgotten he was talking to someone. “The next morning I was to leave King’s Landing and move to Casterly Rock for my training—but that—that meant I’d be torn apart from Cersei—”

“Let me guess,” Brienne stopped him, frowning at the deep influence this Cersei had on him. “You had the night of your life and the next morning, you turned down your father.”

Sighing, he picked up his glass. “She said she couldn’t live without me, said we’d get married when we were both old enough and independent.”

“And you believed her.” Such sincerity, such naked love there was in the man’s eyes that Brienne felt a jolt of sympathy towards him—like it was her personal business to untangle him from this manipulative woman’s clutches.

“I’m still with her—” he stopped for a gulp of water “so—”

“On your terms or hers?”

It was Jaime’s turn to frown. “What is that even supposed to mean?”

“You gave up an early chance to replace Tywin Lannister because this woman insisted you stay with her. That’s what it means,” she put it forth bluntly, her resentment for this Cersei she hadn’t met growing with every conversation they had. “And unless you take stock of yourself, this is going to keep happening—”

“Stop jumping into conclusions about her—”

“I wouldn’t, if you’re more forthright with me—”

“Enough,” he bellowed, thumping his fist on the table. “You know what—” wiping his hands, he tossed his napkin onto the table “—we’re fucking done for tonight.”

+++++ 

After that night, the next two days were nothing short of a cold war. Mornings, they met at the kitchen, each pretending the other was invisible, each bustling about, making their own coffee and breakfast as if the other didn’t exist. Pretending he wasn’t around—he, with his gorgeousness casually strewn about wherever he set foot, was difficult, no doubt, but it was also adding to her day count. With just over three weeks remaining, every day wasted could cost her dearly.

To add to her woes were her dreams which refused to leave her alone. “Not him” _,_ she muttered to herself as she walked into the kitchen sleepily on Saturday morning. “Not interested. Not at all—”

“I too wish our month to be up soon so you’d leave me alone.” His hands on her shoulders, he stopped her from crashing into him just on time, their bodies almost touching, her breasts just a hair’s breadth away from his bare chest. “And do me the favour of keeping your eyes open while you walk, hmm?”

When he let go, she should’ve moved away, made way for him. 

But— 

His husky morning voice lingered in her head—its effect she could feel somewhere between her legs. His breath cascaded down her tee, leaving goosebumps wherever it touched her. Her eyes were intent on examining every inch of his chest—that damn perfectly sexy chest with the golden trail of hair running down his midriff and disappearing into his—

_Fuck, no!_

She tried to look away, but her eyes refused to obey. And her the rest of her body, especially her tits which hardened into pebbles, her womanly bits which always managed to perk up at the sight of his shirtless presence anywhere near her. She should’ve excused herself and left, instead, she found herself picturing what was beneath those shorts. Was he—

“Brienne?”

“Yeah.” Snapped out of her trance, she braced herself to face those sharp green eyes. “I must be—” Feeling herself reddening, she turned away. “I’ll—I’ll come back for my coffee later.”

“Listen,” he called, when she was at the door.

Her heart leapt. Fingers shivering on the doorknob, she waited, hoping he hadn’t noticed the little trip her eyes had taken.

“Why don’t you join me for breakfast?”

She scanned his face searching for hidden intent. Jaime Lannister being this unnaturally polite had to mean something—something that went past the wish to socialize with someone unwanted like her. But his eyes held nothing artificial, no ploy, no masked agenda, just something— _sincere_?

“I won’t poison your food,” he persisted, attacking her with a charming smile. “You and I—our objectives clash, but I don’t usually resort to murdering people I disagree with, trust me.”

To her great surprise, she found herself smiling back.

“So you _can_ smile,” he teased, leading her to the counter.

“Why this sudden niceness?”

He loaded the toaster with four slices of bread. “That night—” first, he didn’t meet her eye, but a moment or two later, he looked up at her “—I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

Her heart unnecessarily soared, and to counter that, she busied herself with pouring out two mugs of coffee. “Are you apologizing, Mr. Lannister?”

He accepted the coffee she handed out. “Don’t take this as a surrender, Ms. Tarth,” he said, not answering her question directly. “FYI, I have a date tonight with Cersei.”

_Yes, unfortunately._

“I might not be back home until morning,” he went on, when she stared into her foaming beverage. “I’m informing you so you don’t—”

“Yeah, yeah, I get the point,” she snapped, no rhyme nor reason for the fresh surge of irritation rising up her chest.

+++++ 

Dinner that night was a lonely affair.

After that was even worse. Brienne had the house to herself, the world on her laptop, the choicest of services on the TV to regale herself with. But no matter how hard she tried, her mind wouldn’t stay on one thing. All it wanted to dwell on was his evening with Cersei, the night to come. 

Jaime's passionate moans kept coming back, and tonight, it wouldn’t be just him. He’d have her, he’d fuck her—

The prospect disturbing her, Brienne switched off the TV and got up to go get herself a glass of cold water.

 _Oh, I want you,_ in his thick horny voice was all that rang in her head, the chilled drink not helping her one bit. _Yes, fuck, yes—_

The sound of the key being turned in the door broke her out of it. “Hey!”

“You’re back.” She tried to keep her tone calm, to hide the relief in her voice. “How did the date go?”

From his face, not as he’d expected. Jaime slumped into the couch beside her and rested his head on the cushions, eyes closed for a moment.

“You can talk about it,” she gently prompted, wanting to approach him as a friend this time, not a professional. 

“We had an argument,” he opened up instantly, no resistance, no wall to push her away. “A huge one—”

“Did you—”

“Oh no,” he waved her away, much to her disappointment. “It’s going to take a lot more than one fight to break us up.”

She wanted to keep a safe distance, but found herself shifting closer. “What happened?”

“We were talking about Tyrion and one thing led to another—” he sighed “—she insulted him, I disapproved of it—”

“You called out her misbehaviour? Told her it offended you?”

“Yeah—” the sharpness was back in his eyes “—but that doesn’t mean I’m done with her. It was just an argument—”

“—which ended in you returning home to me instead of spending the night with her,” Brienne mused, though regretting the _‘returning home to me’_ as soon as she’d blurted it out. That wasn’t how she’d meant for it to come out.

“I’m seeing her again next week,” he told her, all traces of vulnerability gone from his face. “So if you think this small hiccup is your victory—”

“I never said that,” she sprang back, stung. “Nor am I saying you shouldn’t see her again.”

That seemed to ease him down again.

“Did she apologize?”

Jaime said nothing, but the answer was right there in his expression.

“Despite that you’re planning to see her again?” 

“I already told you—” 

“And you think that’s healthy?” Something inside her went out to this guy who was ready to unconditionally accept this woman who was so obviously pulling the strings. “Not just this once, it’s _always_ been about her, isn’t it? What she wants. What she feels.”

Again, no answer. But he didn’t slap her with a sassy counter-comment either. She could make out that despite his stubborn resistance, he was lost in thought, evaluating the last couple of hours in his mind. She took in every bit of him. Going a step further and allowing herself to be optimistic, she treated herself with the assumption that he _was_ in slight agreement with her, though she knew he’d never say it to her face. The blind devotion he had for this woman curtailed any rational thread of thought before it could even emerge. Breaking him out of her shackles wasn’t going to be easy. From what Brienne had gathered in this one week, Cersei was like a drug to him. Accustomed to playing by her whims, he wasn’t going to stop seeing her just because a tiny part of him strayed, tilting towards the words of a stranger—someone he looked upon as hostile. 

And she wanted to do her best to help him out.

“Mr. Lannister—” 

He got up with a sudden sense of urgency. “Good night, Ms. Tarth.”


	3. Week 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to get interesting in Jaime's head. And his—well—elsewhere...

To make the first move and go meet Cersei or not—that was the pressing question.

It was something that led Jaime to lie awake all night after he’d returned home from that unpleasant dinner, thinking through Sunday and the rest of the next week. 

Before he could keep count of the days, week number two was almost drawing to a close with Friday night already upon them. He was halfway through their agreed tenure, another fifteen days to go before he could see the back of his guest. Soon it would be time to score a thumping victory over her.

And for that to happen, he’d have to rekindle the fire with his lover, get things back on track.

Brienne’s words kept pinching him, pulling him back every time he picked up the phone to call or message. He drove back home, the same rush of thoughts crept back into his mind. Was Cersei going to call and apologize about Tyrion? Would such arguments be frequent occurrences in their future? Were the cracks going to get wider?

But everytime he tried to think, to focus on how best to tackle Cersei’s behavior, his new acquaintance hijacked his mind.

Keeping away from the wench, he’d assumed, was going to be the easier part of it, but that was slowly becoming a growing problem. She was his enemy, sent by his father to put a full-stop to his love life. He was supposed to keep his distance from her, yet, he found himself smiling back at those odd little moments when his fingers brushed hers over a coffee cup or when he had to bodily shift her out of his way. Despite his resentment towards what she was here for, he was beginning to look forward to returning home after work to an hour or so of chilling out with her. 

When he entered his building, his breathing picked up—two days home, with only her around him.

It was an opportunity to keep things stress-free between them. That was all he was aiming at.

If it weren’t for their strained equation, Brienne wasn’t really that awful a person to mingle with. While they’d started off on a sour note, avoiding friction on a day-to-day basis made sense because, anyway, he’d triumph in the end and she’d be forced to do his bidding and bring his father down the Cersei lane.

 _Just another couple of weeks,_ he told himself, staring at the empty elevator walls as it shot up to his floor. _Then she’ll be gone and I’ll be free to—_

Free to do what, exactly?

He hated to admit it, but every word the wench hurled at him was not very far from the truth. She’d analyzed his mind, his life because, obviously, that was her job. He loved Cersei not because he was in-cognizant to her shortcomings, but despite them. But with the weekend upon them and with no message nor a call from Cersei, he had a whole forty-eight hours to while away in the company of his new— _friend?_ _Well-wisher?_

“Neither,” he muttered to himself, striding over to his door and thrusting the key into the lock. “She’s just a hindrance I have to put up with—”

A panicked yelp froze him to a halt at the doorstep, and he stood there, mind wiped to a blank, eyes glued to the sight before him. 

The wench in his living room, fresh out of a bath and clad in a towel that barely made it to half-way down her thighs, not at all something he was prepared for. 

_Wow,_ sighed a little sensation from somewhere between his legs.

 _Shut up,_ said his voice of sanity, tossing him out of this trance.

“I—um—” she stammered, then fumbled with the purse she was holding. Golden strands sticking to her forehead, stray streams of water running down her neck, into her cleavage, down those long arms—the little throb in his groin threatening to prevail, he found his eyes obeying its command, taking in her smooth bath-fresh skin, his mind’s eyes dissolving into images of what might lie beneath the skimpy length of cloth that covered her important bits. 

“I didn’t expect you for another hour,” she mumbled, one shaking hand still dipped into the purse while the other gripped the knot on the towel. “You could’ve used the doorbell.”

“It’s my house,” he chuckled, his unabashed gaze refusing to listen to logic as he shut the door and approached her. “I’m not accustomed to people opening the door for me and—” He paused, his throat dry, his voice turning dangerously huskier, heat, need and everything unwanted beginning to build up down south. “I don’t usually have towel-clad women strutting around my living room in my absence,” he added, forcing normalcy into his tone. 

“Sorry. I had forgotten my purse here and—I was actually looking for something.” Face flushed with embarrassment, she clutched the purse to her chest and looked ready to flee. “I suppose, I’ll—”

“This—” He bent to pick up something the size and shape of a lipstick lying on the floor, it’s tapered edge peeping out from under the couch. “Is this what you were searching for?”

An adorable spread of pink decorated the smooth column of her neck. “Thanks—” she snatched it from him, and was about to turn tail and run when his watch got caught in a rogue trail of fiber hanging down the knot on her chest. 

She jerked herself away, hoping that might separate them, but her panic move only led to more of the stitch unwinding.

“Hang on.” 

Taking charge, he took to working on it, but his left hand being his wrong hand, it didn’t help much. To add to his lack of progress was the delicious scent of orange wafting off her neck. It was getting to his head, clogging his brain, overpowering his senses. He drifted into a vivid imagination of what she’d look like, naked. At first glance, he’d, no doubt, found her ugly, but as she began to sink in, he realized she wasn’t that bad, after all. Those long legs, he only now noticed were smooth and shapely, and they’d be devastating wrapped around his hips, crushing him, heels digging into his calves. Her breasts were neither too heavy nor meager, just perfect for him to palm, to squeeze, and a tingle ran down his spine when he imagined what those nipples might feel like, trapped between his teeth— 

“You’re hardly of any help here,” she squeaked, shaking fingers reaching over, tips brushing his as she set to gently free the thread from its imprisonment. 

He let her take over, though she wasn’t any better at this than him. The rate at which she was going, it would take ages, but Jaime far from minded it—at least his body didn’t. His eyes flew to the vibrator in her other hand, his abdomen clenching with a tug when he was tormented with a fleeting image of her using it. Women’s purses were like Hermione’s handbag, housing a whole horde of unimaginable things. What else did she carry around with her? 

A dildo?

His stomach did another impromptu flip.

He could do a better job, his fingers, his mouth, his aching cock... What would it be like if—

“Done,” she whispered, sweat beading her temples as she pulled away, putting decent distance between them.

“Right,” he said, snapping out of his indecent thoughts. “Thanks.”

Before he could take the next breath, she had bolted out of there.

 _No,_ he told himself, as he resorted to the privacy of his room. _Not interested._

Stripping down to his boxers, he slumped into the bed, his hand involuntarily cupping the bulge in his shorts. If only last week’s date had gone well—

Giving in to the unbearable stiffness in his pants, he ripped down his underwear. 

It could’ve been one hell of a night—he and his beautiful girlfriend, fucking the weekend away. 

Shutting his eyes, he leaned against the pillows, gently stroking himself as he brought up Cersei’s body, the delicious scent of her cunt. Such magic, they made together, spending every night they could grab a chance to be together, exploring, devouring each other. He began sailing down memory lane—the way he ate her out, licking her, leaving her sweating, begging for more, the way she kissed the tip of his head before taking him in her mouth. “Oh yes,” he groaned, his cock beginning to strain and bulge as he flicked through the vast expanses of his mind. His pretty girlfriend, her perfect body—

_Vivid blue eyes._

_The longest legs the gods had ever given a woman._

_Those full lips_ , _that long neck, the pulse throbbing at her throat._

His desperate fingers threading through that short blond hair to pull her mouth harder onto his cock—

_Fuck!_

He opened his eyes in alarm, hoping a return to reality might blast these dangerous visions out of his head—

She pulled back, those astonishing eyes looking up to meet his for a split second before she gently scraped her teeth along his aching length.

_No!_

But he couldn’t stop, couldn’t keep himself from gripping his cock, fisting his shaft, clenching his teeth as the pressure choked his balls. He started to slowly slide up and down, keeping a tight hold.

Eyes shutting of their own accord, he shut logic out of him, and within no time, he was at her mercy again.

He trembled when she bit him, just a bit. His breath was ripped to strangled shreds when she pressed a kiss to his tip. He was twitching at her touch. Swollen. He needed this, this angry desperate thing that was a pure fiction of his horny imagination—

And yet— 

She was kneeling before him, his cock in her mouth, her finger deep within her cunt, seeking, plundering, as he fucked her mouth.

His senses were sparking, on the verge of bursting into flames. This felt good. So devilishly good.

His pace quickening, he worked his fingers up to his balls, rolling and squeezing them, easing the burden of need pent up inside them. Just like those long nimble manicured fingers would, the way they worked him out of the knot she’d entangled him in.

_Gods, yes!_

He eased the pressure a bit, only to step it up again. 

She was ready. Waiting. Wet with arousal.

Her fingers off herself, she lay on her back and pulled him atop her. In, he pushed, splaying her cunt open.

He jerked in and out, mating with the rhythm of the squeeze of her walls around him. Wet, hot, tight and slippery, she was everything a man could dream of. She bucked against him, riding him like crazy, her clit throbbing into his touch, her breasts bouncing, nipples peaking, dragging him along, into her, fueling his fantasies.

 _Fuck me harder,_ she demanded in his head as she began the climb to her orgasm. He could feel it, deep inside, thrusting upwards, surging. She was writhing under him, engulfing him in her cloud of lust.

This was wild. Angry. Primal. Sheets in a disarray. Condom wrappers strewn about, they could keep going like this endlessly.

_This, yes._

He went in, hard and rough, burying himself in that tight heat, joining her in the climb, in this flaming pursuit of bliss. His balls tightened, swelled, and with a hoarse grunt that paired with her needy cry, they erupted together in a roaring climax.

He fell back, panting, eyes still tightly closed.

_No, not her._

His thighs soaked in the aftermath of his shattering orgasm, the trembling fingers still holding on to his cock, his unsteady breathing—they all warned him of just one thing.

_Keep a safe distance._

+++++ 

The sleepless night he’d spent led Jaime to a determined resolution to stay away from her, his unplanned visit to his brother’s place early Saturday morning, the first step towards his goal. This break, he hoped, would help him regroup his thoughts, to get her towel-wrapped sexiness out of his head.

A distraction, it was, but short-lived, and when Sunday dawned on them, he had to brace himself for a whole Cersei-free, Tyrion-free day. 

“What are your plans for today?” Brienne asked, settling down beside him. 

_Anything to keep me out of the house,_ he wanted to tell her, but what came out instead was an overly eager, “Why don’t we go out for lunch if you aren’t busy?”

Her body language was back to normal, as if she’d completely brushed aside the vibrator embarrassment. And that was a good sign. If she had reverted to her old self, he had no reason to find excuses to keep away. _Besides, it’s just lunch,_ he convinced himself, seeking his inner approval. It wasn’t that he was going to make this a practice. She was here for a purpose and he was working towards his own. Conflicting, though their interests were, was there a real need for unnecessary hostility? A couple of weekends more, and then it would be the end of the road for them.

But until then, a lunch here or a dinner there would do him no harm, would it?

“Tell me more about Cersei,” she inquired while they waited for their order to arrive.

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself, Brienne?” he said, keen to know more about this intriguing woman. “Why don’t we spend this hour differently, for a change—”

“Mr. Lannister—”

“ _Jaime_.” He leaned back, tilted his head slightly to survey those deep eyes. “My name’s Jaime. We’ve known each other for days now, so might as well drop this formality, wench—”

“Wench?”

“Just—” he searched around for an explanation “—just something that caught my fancy. So how about you tell me a bit—”

“You’re distracting me from my agenda,” she pointed out, but didn’t sound angry at all.

“I’m a Lannister. I play fair, so I’ll do no such thing.” He paused, trying to read her mind, of what she thought of him. “To be honest, despite our differences clouding our opinions for each other, you’re not as bad as I had imagined you might be.”

“Thank you for the compliment,” she dryly remarked, making a face. “I’m flattered.”

“Dad would be delighted,” he went on, “if I settled down with a woman like you—”

She coughed, and he checked himself. Before he could say anything more, the waiter arrived. 

“So,” he said, picking up from where he’d left off once they were alone again. “This must be emotionally overbearing for you—digging into people’s lives, their feelings, their deepest intimacies and weaknesses.” He hid behind a sip of water, eyes raised above the glass to take a peek at hers. “Have you ever fallen in love with a client?

“No,” she was quick to reply, short and terse, her face screaming the opposite. “Never.”

“You know—” he set down the glass to confront her “—considering the work you do and how skilled you are at it, I expected you to be a better liar.”

She looked down at the soup, stirring absentmindedly. Her mind, he could see, was far away. 

“Come on,” he nudged, succumbing to his curiosity, his eagerness to find out about her love life. “You can tell me, we’re friends now.”

Her brows went up. “Friends?”

 _I hope so._ He subconsciously went back to the feverish few moments of self-service he’d indulged in after that towel mishap. _But definitely not more than friends._

“Well, I don’t hate you anymore,” he said, downplaying the fluttering in his belly.

Her eyes shrank a bit. “Again, I’m flattered, Mr. Lannister—”

“Jaime—” he cut her. “Now why don’t you tell me about him?”

“His name was Renly,” she admitted, eyes taking off in a faraway trip to the past. “He was a crush, nothing more. As I spent days in his company, listening to him, sorting out his problems, I drifted along with him, got carried away—” 

“What if it happens again?” It had come out in haste, and before Jaime could keep his thoughts bound to a leash, he found himself probing further. “What if you fall for—” 

“No.” An odd closed expression flashed across her face. “Never.” 


	4. Week 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Week 3 takes things even further :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning : This chapter is heavy pining.

Her terse response sent out the message, putting an end to his questions about her love life, stemming the flow of their conversation, but the rest of the dinner, Brienne spent barely eating and mostly thinking.

What the hell was happening to her? This extent of personal involvement wasn’t something she’d anticipated when she’d signed up for this. A weekend without Cersei was, no doubt, a mini triumph for her, but this—a sort of reverse session of inquiry that this dinner had come to was not only out of her scope but also somewhat unnerving.

Lying to Jaime to dismiss him was easy, but what was she to do with whatever was brewing within her? With each passing day it was beginning to get difficult, the massive effort it was taking her to act like all was normal and well after the vibrator incident something she was worried she couldn’t put up on a continuous basis.

“The food’s okay, I hope? You don’t look like you’re enjoying it.”

She looked up to find Jaime eyeing her like he intended to get to the depths of her mind. “You’ve gone all quiet. If you took offense to my asking about your love life—”

“It isn’t that,” she murmured. “It’s just that—”

“What?” When she kept the rest to herself, he leaned forward. “You can trust me, Brienne.”

That was the problem. She was starting to get deeper into what shouldn’t be. As far as he was concerned, this was just a break, an interim cooling period away from his girlfriend. What would happen when they patched up? It hit her in the pit of her stomach. A friend, he called her tonight, but she’d be instrumental in breaking them up and proving a point, proving her worth for what his father had hired her for. 

“I need to get out and get some fresh air.” She got up. “I’ll see you outside, Jaime.”

He gave no reaction first, then nodded. “Gimme a moment and I’ll meet you across the street in the parking lot.” 

She walked out of there in a daze, barely cognizant of anyone or anything around her, the buzzing in her mind starting to get louder now. Like a zombie, she made her way to the pedestrian crossing. This was beginning to become Renly all over again. A rude Jaime would’ve been better than the friendly front he was putting up. At least, she could’ve easily kept on her cloak of professionality then. But this—

A loud screech of desperate honking tore into her ears, and she turned to meet a blinding pair of lights—

Her first instinct was to shield her eyes. Her mind blank, she neither moved forward nor backward—

“What the hell, Brienne!”

Strong arms pulled her back. The enticing waft of his after-shave, the very aura of him getting through to her, she succumbed, gave in when he drew her into the safe confines of his embrace and off the path of the speeding vehicles. 

“What were you thinking—crossing the road like that?” he breathed into her neck, minute tremors splicing through his voice. She could feel the waves vibrate all through her and when he pressed his hand into her waist, the niggling ache, now a frequent visitor to her groin, was back. She clung to him, the pressing need to stay like this overpowering her sense of duty. “If I had not made it on time—” he stopped there, but she could feel the rest of it in the heavy sigh that gushed down her, his heart racing as fast as hers, the gentle tug which drew her closer.

“I was lost in thought,” she said, quite honestly, the rest of it remaining in her mind. “I didn’t notice the signal. Thanks for um—” she halted, cursing herself for her carelessness. “Sorry for giving you such a fright.”

He didn’t reply, but she could feel the rush of adrenaline settle down as his body relaxed against hers, his heart pumping its way back to a normal rhythm. 

“We—um—” she brought it up reluctantly, shifting her hand from his shoulder to his chest. She wanted to let go, to keep an arm’s length distance from him, but her body refused to comply, wanting to be wrapped in the comfort of his body for goodness knows how much longer. “We need to get going.”

“Right.” His grip on her waist loosened and he untangled himself from her. “Right.” 

_Not right,_ she told herself, agitated, as they quietly crossed the road. _This is all wrong._

+++++

With Monday began a new week, and working days meant she’d see much less of him which obviously put her at a much lesser risk of getting into difficult situations. Keeping out of his way for most of their overlapping hours at home helped and a good part of the week had gone with no more than minimal interaction between them.

The week went by, peaceful and uneventful. Time breezed by, and Friday morning arrived as if the days in between had decided to take a break. Just when Brienne was about to give herself a pat on her back for achieving what she’d deemed was impossible after the moment they’d had outside the restaurant last weekend, there he was, standing at her door in nothing but a towel around his waist and his shirt hung around his arm instead of on him.

“Mind if I disturb you for a second?”

She nodded weakly.

Only when he came closer did she notice he was armed with a needle and long trail of thread. “If you need my help with mending something,” she hastily explained, not wanting to experiment with her abysmal needlework skills, “I’m afraid I’m not—”

“Oh I can fix a button by myself.” Jaime handed out the bare needle. “I can do far more than that—embroider, even,” he boasted, much to her amazement. “The one thing I struggle with is—” he tilted his chin to the needle’s eye. “Mind threading this for me? I’m over forty and my eyesight isn’t as perfect as it used to be.”

Now that was entirely manageable.

But, was it?

Under non-Jaime circumstances, she would’ve done it in a jiffy, but with him standing beside her, his sexiness all over the room, around her, in her fucking mind and trickling into her senses, she could barely focus. The thread, she wanted to keep her attention on, but despite her instruction, her eyes kept wandering to those broad shoulders, that flawless chest.

“Ouch,” she hissed, pricking herself when she pictured her fingers following the inviting trail of hair that disappeared into the towel.

“You’re worse than me,” he remarked. “Here—” he curled his fingers around her errant right hand “—steady—” he murmured, his left hand wrapping around hers, holding her in a grip as she held the needle “—try now.”

And she did. And again missed the eye.

Damn, did she have to go to pieces like this every time he got close to her!

“You’re not concentrating,” he whispered, breathing down her neck. “Hold still—” he pressed his fingers into hers “—and now try again.”

This time she forced every bit of will power into getting it done, and when she’d succeeded, at last, and when he’d left her alone, she sank into the bed with a helpless groan.

This was not done. Not done at all.

+++++

Saturday morning instilled in her a fear that she might trip and fall on her face again, that she might land herself in a situation she didn’t want to bring herself out of. She contemplated reporting sick and lying in bed to avoid complications, but then, being a poor liar, she might only end up stepping into something far messier than what she’d already gotten herself into.

So out she went to the kitchen once she’d brought herself to a presentable state, bracing herself for his tousled morning look and so much more. To her surprise, Jaime wasn’t there.

“Morning,” she announced her presence, when she found him crouched in a corner of the couch, buried in his phone.

“Hey.”

When he didn’t say beyond that or look up, she sensed something was amiss. “What’s up?”

“Cersei—” he eased himself out of the uncomfortable position “—she apologized, says she’s sorry for whatever went wrong the last time, says she wants to meet me for dinner tomorrow.”

“Oh,” was all Brienne could manage, then infusing a bit of fake enthusiasm so she didn’t sound very deflated, she shifted closer. “That’s good news, isn’t it?”

He shot her a piercing look. “Good news for you too?”

She gulped down the disappointment that had nothing to do with her word to Tywin Lannister and forced herself to smile. “I told you I’d evaluate your relationship before drawing any conclusions,” she said, reminding him of her stand. “If Cersei is the way ahead—”

“You think she is?” The question took her by surprise. Just about three quarters of a month back, he wasn’t even ready to let her into his house, and now, here he was, inviting her into his mind, seeking her approval. “You think we’d stand the test of time?”

“I don’t know,” she carefully replied. This had placed her mind in a conundrum. She wanted him to be happy, but at the same time, a frantic tug in her chest pointed out that what she yearned for, deep down, conflicted with his interest. 

“Should I meet her tonight?”

She had to fight hard not to sigh, not to take advantage of her position and his vulnerability and spell out what she desired of him. “I think you should go,” she advised, ignoring the weight on her chest. “Meet her, see how it goes, then decide.”

“Thanks for being there, Brienne.” In a sudden move, he shuffled over to close the gap between them and envelop her in a hug. “What would I have done without you?” 

Her heart heavy, she let her arms fall around his neck. “You would've done just fine.”

+++++

Brienne was far from fine.

After that conversation in the morning, she spent the remainder of the day in the confines of her room, immersed in her laptop. Citing the need to research an upcoming assignment as a reason, she tried to lose herself in work—anything that might distract her from thoughts of him, but nothing powerful enough to engage her so, she failed spectacularly. 

She struggled through the day, her uneasiness going up as the sun went down. She watched him dress to his handsome best and leave home after a cheerful _bye_ , and trying her best to keep a firm hold on her fluttering heart, she waged a war against her dangerously surfacing feelings, reminding herself that he might not come home tonight.

In the arms of the woman he loved—that’s where he deserved to be, that’s what would make him happy. And that’s what Brienne would ensure. She made up her mind to convey her verdict to Tywin. He belonged to this woman who failed to recognize his true worth. But maybe one day she would. She’d wake up to what she truly meant to him, her passion resonating with his. One argument was nothing, not strong enough to destroy years of love and bonding. He would always be hers.

Tomorrow, she decided to speak to the father, to put an end to it, and from Monday onwards, to go back to submerging herself in piles of work to bury herself in, to push away this handsome Lannister and work towards a new beginning.

This was Renly all over again, but if this was what the gods had decided for her, so be it. She’d accept it gracefully and brush off the dust and stand up straight again.

After that, she'd be fine. Like Jaime never happened to her.

Pizza and alcohol—she took another generous swig—they’d help her get through this, help improve her mood. A Saturday night without him was only for the best.

She took to the television, but no matter what she tried to watch, her eyes kept going to the time creeping by.

9.p.m.

 _They might have just finished eating._ She put away the pizza boxes and helped herself to more booze.

10.p.m.

 _He might have gone to drop her home._ She refilled her glass and settled down, curling up on the couch to binge on one of her favourite shows.

11.p.m.

_He’s certainly not coming back tonight. He’s definitely fucking—_

She reached for the bottle again, but held back, her senses alert—

Despite the TV blaring, she could clearly make out the sound of the key turning in the doorknob and just as she clumsily scrambled to her feet, he stepped in.

“Hey!”

“Hey,” she slurred, blinking a couple of times to make sure he was really there. “How come you’re back so early?”

“I—” he paused, frowning as he took her, the empty glass and the bottle beside it. “You’ve been drinking.”

“Yeah.”

The frown lines dug deeper into his forehead. “Why?” 

“Because—” she lurched, and when he caught her in his arms, his eyes seeking answers from hers, she forgot what she’d been meaning to say.

“You don’t look too well.” One hand ran up her back while the other was latched to her waist. “What’s wrong—”

“Nothing,” she cut him right there. Lying was the only way out of this and she hoped her body wouldn’t give her away. “I’m fine, I was just reminded of my days with Renly and I—”

“Renly?” A shadow crossed his face. “Still in love with him, I suppose?”

“What about you?” she demanded, refraining from lying further. She could catch a whiff of drink in his breath, too. “Had a lovely evening, I suppose? Why aren’t you spending the night with—” She let go mid-way. Cersei was the last subject she wanted broached.

“You haven’t yet given me a proper answer,” he kept at it, his tone taking on a slight edge. “Why did you flood yourself with booze? Is it because you still have the hots for Renly? That night with the vibrator—”

She didn’t know what she was doing. All she could feel was something inside her telling her to go for it, and before her inner voice of sanity could prevail, she took the plunge and caught him in a kiss. 

He was _wow._ Just wow!

She pushed closer, pushed her body up against him, and when he responded, his fingers in her hair, soft sighs filling her mouth, she surrendered, sinking into him with abandon.

This—how many nights had she dreamed of this!

He tasted her, sucked away the flavour in her lips, and she matched his sighs with gentle whimpers, her desire set alight when his hand ran down to her thigh.

_Yes!_

His broad chest against the soft swell of her breasts, he pressed closer while his fingers traced the edge of her tee.

Fuck, that was all she was wearing. No shorts beneath, just skimpy panties that were now no good, no match for what he was doing to her.

His restless hands sensed her need, one sliding along the curve of her inner thigh while the other cupped her breast—

_Gods!_

She held him tight, grinding her thighs together. She kissed him hard—harder as his fingertips kissed the strip barely covering her warm wetness, when his thumb nudged her taut nipple. 

Fuck, yes, she needed him, the Jaime Lannister she’d sworn to keep at a distance, the man who loved—

_Cersei._

That one word snapped her back to her senses, and with a flash of sobriety taking over, she pulled back abruptly. “I’m sorry—” What the hell was she thinking? He was her client, a man devoted to another woman for years. She’d violated her code of conduct, inappropriately given in to her desires, tried to seduce a man who was almost as drunk as she was. “I shouldn’t have lost control like this, shouldn't have—” she straightened her shirt, stretching it lower as far as it could go.

He nodded vigorously. “I’m sorry too.” Red-faced, he looked as embarrassed as her. “I've had a drink or two more than usual and I—I should not have taken it this far.”

Of course, he was sorry. His body, his hormones had responded to her, not _him._ That he succumbed to her advances didn’t mean he’d give up Cersei. A drunken kiss gone too far—that was what this was. She’d made a move in a fit of her intoxication and he got carried away. 

Without another word, she bolted out of there as fast as her legs could carry her and shut herself in her room.

She had to get out of his house, his life at the earliest. She couldn’t afford another Renly.


	5. The finish line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end, of course :)

When Jaime opened his eyes, memories of last night came rushing into his head like an intrusive tidal wave.

He lay there staring at the ceiling, his thumb involuntarily brushing his lower lip. What a kiss it was! Even if it was meant for—

 _Renly_.

The high that had risen within him when he recalled the sensation of her tongue on his, when he re-lived what had coursed through him when his fingers got a glimpse of the warm wetness of her arousal, dropped to the ground, and he sat up, deflated. What was he thinking surrendering to her drunkenness like that? Her reluctance to discuss her former love was a big bad hint that had blatantly slapped him on the face, yet, he’d chosen to conveniently ignore those signs when he’d cut short his dinner with Cersei and rushed home to be with the wench. 

Just like only one woman had prevailed over his heart all along, this unpleasant Renly was, perhaps, her Cersei. 

No matter how hard Brienne tried, she’d never be able to get over him, never be open to someone, just like he hadn’t been able to look past Cersei. Obviously she’d viewed him as a shadow of Renly last night, her passion coming out gushing when she’d drunk herself to incoherence. Obviously he’d been reading too much into it. 

Obviously it wasn’t more than an inebriated impulse for him, too.

The woman who had once sworn to break them up had been extremely supportive of his date last night—that ought to make him happy, but then why was he left nursing a strange feeling when he ought to have been bubbling with contentment? 

Dragging himself to his feet, he pulled on a shirt. He got out of his room and went across to hers, halting at the entrance when he found the door ajar and her things strewn all over the bed.

No, she couldn’t be leaving. They still had another week to go. “What’s up?”

“I’m done with this assignment,” she replied, without even looking up.

“But—” So much, he wanted to say, but when the unknown Renly materialized in his head, he dumped it all under a secure lock and key, never to be let out again. “So what’s your verdict?” he asked her, instead.

“I’ve decided to rest my case.” She was still bustling from the bed to her wardrobe, shoving clothes in, arranging them, never stopping for even a moment to talk to him. “You win, not your father.”

“Am I going to see you again?” he asked, his chest tightening.

This time, she looked up. “You better hope you don’t—” He saw something flash in her eyes, only momentarily though. “Not if you’re keen on pursuing a future with Cersei.”

+++++ 

_You better hope you don’t..._

She’d said it so plainly to the face as if— as if there was nothing more than a professional formality between them.

_Not if you’re keen on pursuing a future with Cersei—_

Was that what he wanted?

He’d probably have hated to hear himself admit it—off late, every meeting with Cersei felt like an obligation, like a forced commitment he was putting himself through. Minutes felt like days, stretching on, and the old magic had gone, and what was left behind was—

“Jaime, you’re barely listening!”

“I—” he looked up, distracted, his eyes absently dropping to his watch again. “Sorry, I drifted off.” 

“I was saying now that your dad and his nosy counsellor is out of the way—” 

A nosy counsellor, indeed! She had come to be far more than that. A friend he could pour out his heart to, a shoulder to cry on—in the three plus weeks they’d spent together, she had grown closer to him than he could've ever imagined. She was—

“We could move in together next month,” Cersei suggested, eyes lighting up. “And then, we can re-decorate your apartment—there’s so much I need to re-organize there, to bring it up to—”

_I’d rather like someone else to move in with me, someone who—_

“Jaime!” 

He reluctantly returned to her again. “Yeah—” 

“Something’s wrong with you.” A frown brought her brows together. “Ever since this ugly—”

“Don’t you dare insult her!” He was fuming, his feet tapping the floor in a movement he couldn’t control.

Cersei caught him in an intent, intrusive glare. “You were the one who told me she’s ugly. Remember?”

To that, Jaime could do nothing except go back in time to the wonderful days he’d had. A week had gone since she’d walked out of his house and his life, and all he’d been dwelling on since then, was her. The way she’d gradually replaced Cersei in his dreams, her body filling his fantasies, thoughts of her flooding his mind.

“Has your tongue gone numb?” she went on, her tone sourly disapproving. “Or have you caught feelings for this dumb cow—”

“Enough!” He got up. “I can’t do this anymore.” He couldn’t continue living under this pretence. “You and I—” he managed a thin smile “—it has always been you, Cersei, never _us_. And yes,” he admitted in an afterthought, “you’re bang on target about my catching feelings for her.” 

+++++

A breakup with Cersei and the rest of his Saturday afternoon pining for someone he could never have wasn’t exactly how Jaime had planned his weekend to be.

“Come on, bro, cheer up.”

Jaime forced a smile and looked up. At least, he wasn’t alone, dealing with the weekend by himself. With Tyrion around, it wouldn’t be all that miserable.

“You can do better than Cersei.” His brother sat down next to him. “If it makes you feel any better—” he caught Jaime’s arm in a soothing grip “—she’s been sleeping with Lancel the weekend you were off with her. Get over her, let go—”

“I don’t care who Cersei’s been sleeping with.” Jaime caught his brother’s keen eyes. “It’s not her I’ve been brooding about.”

“Then who—” Tyrion stared blankly for a second before his face brightened with a broad smile “—Ms. Tarth?”

Jaime merely sighed in response.

“I like her,” Tyrion promptly passed his judgement. The grip on his arm tightened. “What’s the problem then?”

“She has an ex she can’t get over.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world,” Tyrion tried to inject him with some of his infectious optimism. “Have you told her how you feel about her? He’s an _ex_ after all, and exes are meant to be—”

“There’s no point—”

“Tell you what—” Tyrion rubbed his hands in enthusiasm “—she happens to be Sansa’s friend, as luck would have it. I’m meeting Sansa for a drink tonight. Why don’t you join us while I ask her to invite this friend of hers you can’t stop thinking about?”

“Brienne won’t come,” Jaime dismissed him. “She made it pretty clear that last week was the end of our association.”

“Oh, but Sansa isn’t going to tell her you’ll be coming,” Tyrion revealed his plan, his grin taking on a conspiratorial edge. “It’s going to be a surprise—”

“It won’t work—”

“You want her or not?”

Again, Jaime said nothing.

“Then go get her.” 

+++++

Just as he’d expected, Brienne met this _surprise_ with a guarded look. “Jaime,” she mumbled, her fingers brushing the edge of the table. “I—” She turned to Sansa. “You never told me he was coming.”

“If I had, you’d have taken to playing hide-n-seek.”

“You both need to talk,” Tyrion chimed in, in agreement. “There’s something unfinished between you two—”

“—something that needs closure right now,” Sansa echoed. “So why don’t you both—”

“I’m going home,” Brienne cut them, stiffer than before. “Sorry guys, but I’m not really up to it.”

“Go after her,” Tyrion hissed, when she turned her back to them and headed for the exit. “Now is your chance—”

Jaime didn’t have to be told twice. He bolted out of there, chasing her through the dancing crowd. When he caught up with her, he caught her arm and pulled her to a dimly lit corner of the pub. “You didn’t answer me that night, wench,” he said, taking off from where they’d left off. “Are you still in love with Renly?”

“No,” came her instant reply, so softly, yet Jaime could hear it hit him loud and clear despite the din around them. “I’m not,” she said again, “but—”

“I don’t mean to sound awfully selfish but I was kinda hoping to hear this,” he whispered, leaning over to caress her cheek, along her jaw in a touch as gentle as a feather. Her lips parted, then closed again, blue eyes definitely not disapproving of what he was doing. Encouraged by the tenderness in her gaze, the slightest quiver of her chin, the barely-there twitch of her lip, he reached down her arm with his free hand to take hers. “That night meant something, Brienne.” He stroked and fondled each one of her fingers, then locked them with his while his eyes locked hers. “Didn’t it?”

Her lips moved in a soft, “Course, it did.” 

Jaime edged in closer. Their faces held apart by a thin film of air soon to crumble to pieces, he could feel her breath on his lips. Minus the alcohol that took them down that night, this was all _her_ , the spark in her eyes not a drunken need but something deeper than that. 

She swallowed, a hue of colour rushing up her neck with the movement of her throat.

He moved in further, closer, and when his lips met hers, she closed her eyes and let go with a sigh. This wasn’t anything like the heated lip-lock from that night, but then, he was _him_ now, not a sad shadow of her ex. With no baggage to pull him back, he went in deeper, pulling her in, bringing her closer. He could feel her heartbeat rising, his own rushing away with a vigour he’d never known before, thumping away with a new purpose. 

“For your information, it’s not Cersei I’m keen on pursuing a future with,” he said, reluctantly drawing away. “And you were right, wench,” he recalled their first meeting with a smile. “A month is all it takes.”

+++++ 

When Jaime opened his eyes, the silver streaks of moonlight pouring in through the gaps in the curtains told him there still was time for the sun to arrive.

He stretched his arms, then turned over, half asleep, half-awake, to cuddle against the naked form lying beside him. “Stop pretending, wench,” he said, when she refused to give in to his advances. “I know you’re awake.” He pushed away the sheet covering them. “And I know you—” He reached out for her, nuzzling her neck and pushing up against her body, the way she burst into flames at his touch taking him to a new level of horniness.

“Let me sleep,” Brienne murmured groggily, but when his arm fell onto her side, when his slowly rising cock nudged into her ass, she reached out a lazy arm to pull him closer. “Let me—”

Her objection was left unspoken when he let his lips trail the nape of her neck, kissing away gently, sensually, absorbing the way she twitched, taking in the deep needy sigh when she sank back against him. “Jaime,” she whispered, snuggling against him sleepily when he brought his leg on top of hers, her softly demanding tone taking him back to the magic of last night.

His face buried in her neck, he let his hand slide down her arm. She smelled of sex, of him, of everything they’d got down to last night, and wanting to soak in every drop of it, he kissed upwards, taking her length of her neck, her sensitive earlobe, and when he tugged it gently with his teeth, she pushed back with a whimper and brought his roving hand to her belly. “Yes.” Her voice was muffled and helpless. She squirmed when he traced light circles around her navel, twisted into him with a gasp when he tickled his way upwards, plucking at her skin and playing with her senses.

“Still asleep?” he asked playfully, taking her breasts one by one, squeezing and fondling them, rolling each pert nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “You think I’m going to let you—”

Interrupting him with a moan, she leaned back into him, grinding her ass against his now fully hard erection. “You’re evil, you know that?” 

He let his hand slide between her thighs, onto her awaiting hotness. “You didn’t seem to think so last night. You certainly enjoyed—”

She lifted her leg to give him more leverage, to let him in, to let him move, slip down where she needed him unobstructed. “Yes,” she moaned, when he tenderly parted her folds to feel her velvety softness, all hot and wet and ready for him. “Yes,” she hissed again, moving her hips along his thick dick when he rubbed up and down her slit. “Right there, Jaime.” She drew his leg over hers, gliding her body back and forth against his, egging him to quit teasing and get right into it. Jaime, however, refused to fall for it. Deliberately slow, he continued to sail down the river of lust at his own pace, rubbing downwards to go all the way to her ass, then back, and then tracing a line back up, finding her, feeling her. “Don’t stop,” she gasped, when he stroked her clit, varying the pressure, his pace going up, up with the frantic movements of her hips.

“I dare you to try going back to sleep now,” he challenged, as he kept going, tugging at the sensitive nub, then letting go before capturing it again, and with each excruciating circle, he could feel her sensitivity soar, her need deepen, her body blossoming under his ministrations as he continued to place hot wet kisses along her back, her neck, breathing soft words and dirty nothings into her ear. 

When he pushed harder, she jerked up against him, her leg extending back even further, her very wet opening teasing his cock. “I want you inside me, Jaime.”

He did, too. And he wanted it badly.

Pulling away for just enough time to sheathe himself with a condom he’d shoved underneath his pillow last night (just in case), he returned to her warmth, slipping back into position and wedging his cock into the gap between her legs, his engorged head poised to enter, probing, kissing her wetness as he went back to circling her clit. Shifting her weight, she arched into him as he shoved himself into her. Like her full lips devouring his in the countless kisses they’d shared, like his tongue disappearing into her mouth to mate with hers, he felt her suck him in, deeper, her softness embracing him, holding him tight within her warmth.

She hummed, her smooth back rubbing into his bristled chest hair, and for a timeless moment, he stayed there, treasuring the sensation, their connection, this amazing oneness.

He pushed further in, going all the way down the enticing path, and she wriggled again, pushing her hips backwards to let more of him penetrate her. “I’ve felt so lonely without you,” he breathed into her, closing his eyes, his lips closed on her skin as her muscles folded in on his aching shaft.

She said nothing, but sighed in answer, and when he thrust in as deep as he could, drowning in her to the hilt, when the slap of his balls on her firm ass told him there was no further, he paused again in, letting the moment set, feeling it freeze to a standstill despite everything else thawing in the fire of their slow, passionate lovemaking.

“Jaime.” 

Her breathing hitching up, she clamped her hand down on his fingers, guiding him, urging him to go harder on her clit, edging away then pushing back in, grasping him, then releasing him.

His balls tightened, he could feel his tip caressing her, massaging her. He could sense every nerve that came alive in her, every small twitch and every little spasm. 

Slowly, he moved back, withdrawing, before pushing forwards again, entering her again and again and yet again, slow and deep. He whispered her name, his mouth still feasting on her neck, his fingers still latched on to her clit, and she moaned his, in turn, in the unbearably seductive way she did last night, her hand pressing and caressing his, this slow build-up turning her on as much as it did him.

No more words—they could manage no more than listening to their bodies, hands and lips getting more and more desperate, sighs and cries hitting the walls of the room.

 _Faster now_ , commanded the trail her fingernails left behind as she dragged them up his wrist, signalling him to attend to her desperation. 

He plunged deeper, he could feel pleasure trickle through every inch of her body, the indecent sounds leaving her throat awakening the lion within him. 

Her body on fire, she trembled against his lips as they took off at a feverish pace…

Her groans, his grunts… 

Faster…

She shoved her hips against his balls, thrusting hard, taking in every inch of him. Stroking and caressing turned to rubbing and grinding. Her whole body arching into him, she reached back to grab his ass, binding him to her, her breaths leaving her strangled odd noises. She couldn’t hold on, he could feel that, her pussy clenching onto him as she struggled hard to sustain. 

Her nails digging into his thigh, she threw back her head, her breathing mingling with a ragged cry of his name as the convulsions ripped her apart.

When the tension inside her ebbed away, she sagged against him, still tight, waiting—waiting for him to— 

“Fuck, wench,” he exploded, when he pushed down, when he let go, joining her in the boat of bliss. He came hard, balls deep inside her, his fingers still engaging her clit in soft slow circles, holding her in his arms as the waves swept him away.

For a few precious moments, neither of them moved, neither spoke until they both began to breathe normally again. He stayed within her, his cock softening inside her. He could feel her heart, and she knew he could feel hers. 

“Move in with me,” he said, planting a tender kiss on her arm, threading his fingers in hers when they'd settled down into a comfortable snuggle. “That one week without you was hell. I’ve gotten used to you—those mornings in the kitchen, those long mealtime conversations—” Only after she was gone he’d realised how much he missed her. “Stay with me, Brienne.”

She turned to shift on her back, blue eyes meeting his in an inquiring gaze. “But we barely know each other.”

“You know everything about me. And as for me—” he began playing with her nipple “—I could begin with a few guesses.”

“Like?”

“Blue’s your favourite colour,” he took his first, recalling her taste in clothes, “and it looks pretty amazing on you.” He bent to meet her in a soft kiss. “Brings out your lovely eyes.”

“Taking a shot based on one’s wardrobe isn’t much,” she gently dismissed, caressing his bicep. “Why don’t you try something more personal?”

“You enjoy—” he trailed a forefinger down to her soaked pussy “—spending time with your vibe—”

“Not very often,” she cut him, biting her lip. “Only whenever—”

“—you fantasized about me?”

She rolled her eyes, but he could make out he’d hit the bullseye. “That was just a wild surmise—”

“Your favourite position—” his heartbeat started to pick up again when his mind jumped into a jumble of possibilities “—I think it might be—”

“Why don’t you find out instead of guessing?” she whispered, pulling him onto her and yanking his face down to hers. “Why don’t we—” her hand followed the patch of hair on his chest, descending down his front, tracing it all the way up to his soft cock “—get down to _exploring_ as soon as you’re ready, hmm?” She began to stroke him up and down. “If we’re going to be roommates—” 

“That’s a yes then!” Jaime interjected, his head exploding at the idea of what was to come. 

“Not right away—” she smiled at his disappointment when the happy bubble he was floating in met an abrupt end “—but maybe once my lease expires?”

“I can’t wait.”

“Nor can I, Jaime.”

She enveloped him in a sweaty embrace, and when his lips took hers, he found himself drifting down the stream of bliss again. This—this woman in his arms, in his bed and in his heart—a month back, he’d have scoffed if presented with even a tiniest hint of this. But this—this woman he was wrapped around—she was what he desired, what his heart craved for. Love had been an illusion all his life, but not anymore. 

As always, his father had designed the whole thing to end the game his way, but then, this time, Jaime wasn’t complaining. 

This time, he, too, had made it to the finish line. And what a win it was!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had originally meant for this to be a snappy one-shot, but look at what it's become! As always, thank you so much for reading, for all your kudos and comments. I may sound like a broken record, but I can't stress enough on the point that your support (even if it is a single word or a smiley or just a click of the kudos button) means so much to me.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and do share your comments!


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